


Concubinus Pretiosum

by Chrisx1987



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, Master & Servant, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:43:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrisx1987/pseuds/Chrisx1987
Summary: In ancient Hispania, orphaned at a young age, Barry is forced to work for a cruel master until he is bought at sixteen by a Roman artist who gives him better opportunities, and who treasures him in ways Barry never imagined.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liu/gifts).
  * Inspired by [leap into the waves](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4810175) by [Liu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liu/pseuds/Liu). 



> This is another story I started some time ago, which I'm only posting now.
> 
> Barry is sixteen, but this is in the days where girls got married off much younger like it weren't no thing. And Len doesn't force Barry; he waits for Barry to come to him.

Barry wiped some sweat from his brow, then attempted to dry his hands on his tunic. It was futile in the morning sun, which was nearly at its peak. He resumed gathering peaches, trying to adjust his position so that he would be more shaded by the leaves. As he did so, there was a sudden eruption of screams and shouts from the town.

From his perch in the tree, Barry could quickly see what the ruckus was about: a bull had gotten loose and was charging through the streets.

Barry quickly jumped down from the tree, leaving his basket behind, and ran, leaping over the fence separating his master’s field from the town.

He quickly climbed up the nearest tall building, listening for the sounds that indicated the general direction the bull was in, never once breaking pace as he leapt from one rooftop to the next, choosing his route carefully, so that there was never too large a gap to break his path. It wasn’t long before he was ahead of the bull; the timing for his next move would be critical.

Once he judged himself the right distance, anticipating the bull’s direction, Barry carefully leapt to grab at the stone windowsill of the next building, then allowed himself to fall, rolling with the impact. He was now face to face with the bull, who was not slowing down.

Barry ran towards it, picking up speed, then leapt, up and over, turning himself so as to grab the bull by the horns, his legs around the bull’s neck. Holding on with all his strength, Barry fought to control the bull’s swinging head.

He wasn’t sure how many minutes he spent wrestling the animal, only that his arms were aching when, finally, he managed to get the bull’s head to turn far enough that the beast came to land on its side. The men who had been chasing moved in quickly, tying it with ropes. Barry let go when he was sure the others had it under control.

“That was an impressive feat.” A strange voice spoke from behind him.

Barry turned to see a man in white Roman dress, a green cloak over his right shoulder. He was only a bit taller than Barry, hair cropped quite short to his scalp, lean muscles visible on his bare arms and left shoulder.

“I’m good at running.” Barry said simply, panting from the earlier effort. The Latin was also a bit difficult, as his master insisted on sticking to the old tongue.

“May as well tell Plato he is good at speaking. You fairly flew.”

Barry inclined his neck in a bow, unsure how else to respond. The Roman’s blue eyes seemed to pierce him to the core.

“Where do you live, boy? If your family would be agreeable, I can see you doing very well in the colosseum, outrunning even the best of Caesar’s athletes.”

“My family is dead. I am bound to my master Eobard-” Barry stopped suddenly. The Roman raised an eyebrow.

“Forgive me,” Barry said in a rush. “My master did not give me permission to leave the field. I must go.” And with that, he was running again, grabbing his way up a building, and back in the direction he had come.

The man grinned at the disappearing youth, before turning to one of the shopkeepers who was trying to right his smashed orange cart.

“ _Parumper exspectā_! That young man who stopped the bull, he said he was bound to an Eobard?”

“Eobard Thawne.” The bald shopkeeper replied. “The richest man in the south of Cádiz, but also the meanest _hijo de puta_ you’ll ever meet.”

The man frowned at the words which were clearly the local tongue instead of Latin.

“I am not familiar with that term.” The man stated.

“How you Romans say,” the shopkeeper stroked his chin thoughtfully. “ _Lupae filius_?”

The man raised an eyebrow.

“That bad?” he asked.

“Take today’s incident. The boy probably saved lives and prevented further damage by putting his own life on the line. If Thawne finds out that he lost time that could have been spent doing work, he’ll get a beating for sure.”

The man frowned. If a slave committed a true act of defiance, it was up to the master’s discretion to determine the punishment. The thought that one would be beaten for having thought quickly during a crisis was idiotic to him, to say the least.

“Where can I find him?”

The shopkeeper looked hopeful.

“You’ll get him out?”

“You trust me that quickly?” he asked, surprised.

“I’ve heard of you, Leonard.” He smiled. “Small place like this, most people have heard of the rich Roman artist who stopped a soldier from whipping an old man who wasn’t fast enough to move out of the way. Barry’s father was a scholar who would have sent his son to the finest schools in Hispania had he lived to do so. Now, the boy is doing labor for a man who only cares for treating him like an animal. Get him out, before the _pendejo_ drives the poor boy to an early grave.”

Leonard fished out some coins and held them out for the shopkeeper, but he shook his head.

“You’ll need those to get Barry. Thawne will drive a hard price.”

“I would like to give you something, señor…?”

“Fernando Sucre. And you don’t owe me anything. Just get Barry out.” He pointed towards the west. “The border of Thawne’s land runs right next to the town.”

Leonard put his coins away and shook Fernando’s hand.

“ _Gratias tibi_ , Fernando.”

“ _De nada_ , papi.”

***

Barry had made it back to his master’s yard. The basket was where he had left it at the base of one of the peach trees. He slung the strap over his shoulder, and scurried back up the tree. He started picking peaches as fast as he could, hoping to make up for lost time. If Eobard hadn’t noticed him missing from the yard, then he might have a chance of covering his absence if he filled the basket quickly.

“Boy!”

Barry’s heart stopped. He leaned over, carefully hanging onto the branches. At the bottom of the tree stood Theodore, one of his master’s business partners.

“ _Si_ , señor?”

“Now, I could have sworn this tree was unoccupied when I saw it from my window not five minutes ago.”

Barry swallowed; a difficult feat, as his mouth and throat were parched from his earlier acrobatics.

“No, señor. I have been picking all morning.”

“Are you calling me a liar, boy?”

“No, señor.”

“Then you best get down here, _ahora_.”

Barry clenched his jaw, and carefully climbed back down the tree.

“Now, I know for a fact that you were not in this tree when I looked. And the town is already abuzz with the story of how a young lad miraculously stopped a rampaging bull. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

Barry’s heart sank. It was only a matter of time before his master found out, in that case.

“Now, I might be willing to tell Thawne that it couldn’t possibly have been you. That I know for a fact that you were tending to your assigned duties at the time. Of course, nothing is free.” Theodore reached a hand out to Barry and stroked a finger under his chin, making Barry flinch.

Theodore was well-known for his preference of male youths; the thought of doing anything of the sort with Theodore made his skin crawl.

“If the rumours are as widespread as you say, then what’s the point?”

“Now, now, are you sure you want to take that chance?”

“I would rather have Eobard break all of my limbs than submit to you.” Barry spoke with quiet venom.

He cried out as he was struck. Theodore had back-handed him with such force that he fell to the ground.

“You do not look a gift horse in the mouth, boy!” he began kicking him, his foot colliding with Barry’s lower back, pulling cry after cry from the teen’s throat.

“All the chances I’ve given you! You must enjoy getting a beating!” Barry pleaded for him to stop.

For a moment, Barry was dumbfounded when the blows did indeed stop, only to have his heart sink further when he heard his master’s voice.

“What have you done now, Barry?” Eobard sounded disappointed.

“He left the yard in the middle of chores again.” Theodore was quick to inform him.

“Clearly, my lessons with you do not stick.” Eobard said as he stood near Barry’s crumpled form. “Perhaps a different sort of lesson is required. Theodore?”

“Si?”

“Do with him as you will. I have quite lost my patience.” He sounded almost bored.

“No! Please, señor!” Barry screamed, trying to pull himself up to kneel before Eobard. “Please! Not that!”

Eobard grabbed him by the wrists and shoved him towards Theodore.

“You have brought this upon yourself, Barry! After I opened my home to you! I should have let you starve on the streets!” he turned his back, striding purposefully towards his villa.

Barry continued to scream and plead as Theodore began beating him around the head, trying to force Barry into position. Barry fought and kicked as hard as he could, but, in the end, the older man managed to knock him senseless enough that he could no longer fight.

“ _Prohibere_!”

Leonard was on horseback with four guards at his side, galloping through the field towards Barry and Theodore, the latter who had to quickly re-tie his loincloth, re-adjusting his tunic.

“This is none of your concern, Roman.” Theodore spat once Leonard and his guards had reached him, seeming to almost intentionally butcher the Latin as he spoke it.

“Yes it is. I wish to buy this boy.”

“Well, then you’d better speak with his master.”

“You are not Eobard Thawne?”

“I am Theodore, a business associate of señor Thawne. Here he is, now.”

Eobard had still been close enough to hear Leonard’s shout, and hard turned back immediately.

“This land is my property, _domine_.” He emphasised the word like it was something nasty. “What business have you, here?”

“I wish to buy this boy. I am offering one hundred denarii.”

“He is a youth in his prime, worth quite a bit.” Eobard sneered. “Five hundred denarii.”

“I see. And why was he being punished?” Leonard countered.

“He left his chores without permission. Something he is quite in the habit of doing, I caution you.”

“If he is such trouble, why is he worth so much? I would think you glad to be rid of him?”

Eobard shrugged.

“He still gets a decent amount of work done, in spite of his frequent absences.”

Leonard hummed.

“One hundred and fifty denarii.”

“Have you seen him properly?” Eobard gestured to Theodore, who grabbed the barely-conscious Barry by his wrists, pulling him up.

“Yes, looking rather damaged.” Leonard drawled. “The price required to make him fit for work again should be deducted from the purchase price, don’t you think?”

“Oh, he’s a strong boy, he’ll be back on his feet in no time. Tell you what: four hundred denarii!”

“Two hundred, and if you don’t take it, not only shall I leave with him regardless, but I shall have my guards give you the same blows you have given him.”

Eobard swallowed, not doubting that the Roman would make good on his word. He didn’t have his own guards with him, so he knew it would be idiotic to resist further.

“Yes, that sounds quite reasonable. For two hundred, he is yours.”

Leonard counted out the coins and threw them at Eobard, who quickly bent to the ground, along with Theodore, trying to find them all in the tall grass.

Leonard bid his guards to bring Barry (still shaky on his feet) to him, carefully helping him to sit in front of him in the saddle. He used one arm to hold him in place, using the other to guide the reins to turn his horse around. He gave the reins a snap, urging his horse into a gallop, leaving Eobard’s property quickly, the guards behind him.

***

Leonard was staying with Harrison, Caesar’s appointed governor for the region, who owned a large villa at the other end of the town. He had been commissioned by Harrison to paint a fresco which took up the entirety of the outside wall in the courtyard, capturing the image of the royal gardens at Roma.

Once Leonard arrived outside the villa, a servant came to take the horse’s reins, the guards heading to the stables themselves. Leonard ensured that Barry was holding on to the horse, then slid off, before bidding Barry to do the same, holding his arms out to help catch him.

Barry whimpered from the jostling, which was doing nothing to help his injuries.

“Picked up a stray, Leonard?” The dark-haired man came to greet him, a blue cloak over his white tunic. “Better be careful. This one’s master is not known for his kindness.”

“So I had the chance to witness for myself.” Leonard replied, angry, holding Barry in place with one of the teen’s arms over his shoulders. “However, that will no longer be an issue. I have bought him. He is in need of a healer.”

Harrison nodded.

“I shall send for one at once.” He motioned to his manservant, who nodded and left immediately. “Come, he can rest in the parlor.”

Leonard followed Harrison inside, supporting Barry.

The front of the villa was a large, open space, with many sofas and lounging chairs, clearly intended for entertaining many guests at once. White and gold seemed to dominate the décor. There were open doors leading to the courtyard, around which the villa closed in a square shape.

Harrison pointed them to a sofa, where Leonard laid Barry down on his side, supporting his head with soft cushions.

“Where did they hurt you, Barry?” Leonard asked as he stroked Barry’s hair.

“My back, mostly, but, also my head, to try to make me stop fighting.” Barry’s voice was tired and hoarse from screaming.

Leonard could see the bruising, mostly on the left side of his face.

“The thing he wanted you to stop fighting… did he manage?” Len had only seen that Theodore had been wrestling with his underthings, not whether or not he had succeeded.

“No. You-” Barry gave a small cough. “You stopped him.”

Leonard gave a relieved sigh, gently patting Barry’s neck.

“I don’t have to go back?” Barry asked, sounding somewhat dazed.

“Never.” Leonard assured him. “I have bought you, and I promise you shall never suffer by my hand. We shall sail to Roma, and you will train to race against the swiftest of men, where I expect you shall win many honours. I was told by someone in the town that your father was a scholar, and would have wished you to be educated; I shall provide this for you.”

Barry looked as though he dare not believe what he was being offered.

“Why would you help a simple boy like me?”

“Because, Barry, I don’t think you simple at all. I think you fearless. The way you stopped that bull today was truly a feat of the gods. And I don’t think someone like that should be left gathering fruit only to be beaten when he performs great deeds.” While Leonard spoke, he continued to gently stroke Barry’s face.

“Leonard, a word?” Harrison prodded.

Leonard gently patted Barry’s neck once more, then stood, following Harrison into the courtyard.

“Leonard, I may not know you as well as Mickael, but I do know your desires, and I know that boy fills many qualities that one would find attractive.”

“And you are cautioning me against pursuing him?”

“Only cautioning you prudence. If the boy does not return your affection which, do not protest, a blind man could see, what will you do?”

“I will not force him. That is what almost happened to him today, and I would not wish to remind him of his old master in any way.”

“But you have no plan otherwise?”

“Taking him from here is better than leaving him.”

Harrison nodded.

“When do you return to Roma?” he asked the artist.

“Mickael’s caravan should be returning this way within the week or early next on their way to the sea. I will be joining them for the journey.”

Harrison looked out to the courtyard. “My servants are preparing places for them. No doubt they will be wanting fresh things after a journey with only the swill which Caesar sends for his soldiers, calling it food.”

“Careful; some might call that treason.” Leonard said this with a smirk. Neither of them had any loyalty to Caesar; only what they could profit from his reign.

Harrison indicated the fresco.

“I am well-pleased with your work, Leonard. Worth every coin. Come, I believe I hear my servant returning, no doubt with the healer. You should tend to your boy.”

He led the way back to the parlor, where the healer had already begun her work. She had her daughter with her, not much older than Barry. The daughter looked up as the two men approached.

“Is it true?” she ran up to them.

“Caitlin, do not speak out of turn!” her mother chided.

Harrison held up a hand, indicating he was not bothered.

“Is what true, child?”

“That you have bought Barry?”

“I have.” Leonard replied.

“Oh, _gratias tibi_ _, domine_!” she threw herself to their feet.

“You know him?”

She kept to the ground.

“We knew each other as children. We, as well as our friends, Iris, her brother Walter, and Ronald. We were all great friends.”

“Stand, girl.” Harrison urged her.

Caitlin carefully got to her feet, but kept her eyes downcast.

“How was it that Eobard came to own Barry?” Leonard asked.

“There was a lightning storm, years ago. Barry’s parents perished in a fire. Barry was struck, but survived. He was only ten. Eobard paid for his treatments, promised to raise him as his own alongside his son, Edward, if he would but help him with the work. But then one day, Barry could no longer come to play, and then we found out about the beatings; my mother has been called to his side many times. Eobard remarked once in her presence of how her fees only added to his debt, so she began providing her services for free when it came to Barry. Edward tried to sneak him out to Joseph, an old friend of Barry’s father. But Eobard found where he was, and threatened great harm to Joseph’s daughter if he did not return him. Edward cut ties with his father and fled with Joseph’s family. Iris, she’s Joseph’s daughter; she and Edward sent news of their marriage last year.”

Leonard had felt his anger bubbling throughout the whole of her tale.

“And no one else could do anything?”

Caitlin shook her head.

“He is too powerful. He owns half the town.”

Harrison harumphed.

“Perhaps too powerful for you, but I have riches from Caesar. Mark my words, girl, he shall be master of nothing before the week is out.”

Caitlin dared look him in the eye once more, hope illuminating her features. Harrison raised a hand to shush her before she could begin babbling her thanks.

“You’d best return to your mother’s side. I believe she is trying to train you in her profession, and you can’t do that from the other side of the room.”

Caitlin cast her eyes to the floor again, and nodded, before returning to the sofa.

“Not much gets past you, does it, Harrison?”

“When I was sent to be governor here, I made it my business to know things of the town.”

“Why didn’t you stop Eobard before?”

“I’ve only been here a year, Leonard. My predecessor tried to rock the boat too much, and the people of the town reacted. You’ve given me an opportunity to be rid of him in such a way that the people will think well of me afterward.”

Leonard shook his head, a small smile playing his lips.

“Everything in its own time, eh, Harrison?”

“Exactly. Advice you may want to heed if you pursue this boy.”

Leonard nodded, then excused himself before walking towards the couch, wanting to be close to Barry, standing on the side opposite the healer. She had stripped him down to his loincloth, revealing ugly bruises covering his back, which she was rubbing a salve onto. Beneath those, however, was the evidence of years of abuse: whipping stripes and burn marks dotted his flesh. Beneath all that, however, was a reddish design, somewhat resembling a tree, which seemed beautiful to Leonard, and he had to check himself from running his fingers along it.

“A strange birth-mark.” Leonard murmured.

“No, _domine_ ,” the healer spoke. “This is no birth-mark. This is what happened after the lightning.”

Leonard could not stop himself this time, carefully tracing the tendrils not covered by bruises.

“To have survived such a thing… Surely, this is the mark of the gods.” Leonard murmured.

The healer smiled sadly.

“Perhaps, that is why you found him, _domine_. To take him away from his cruel fate, that he may find his destiny.”

Leonard noticed then that Barry’s breathing was deep and even.

“He sleeps?”

“I gave him a draught that he may forget the pain for a time. You-” the healer hesitated. “You will care for him, _domine_?”

“You can be assured, _mulier_ , that he shall receive that education his father wanted for him, and he shall perform great feats of speed in the colosseum. From what I saw today, he shall become known throughout the empire as Mercury incarnate.”

The healer smiled, relieved.

“How old is he?” Leonard asked.

“Sixteen, _domine_.”

“He’s tall.” Leonard commented.

“Si, _domine_. As was his father.”

Leonard carefully touched one of the burn scars.

“To have known such pain so young... his heart must be so broken.”

“It is in many ways, _domine_. However, whenever I would have business that took me that way, he always took the time to smile. It is a deep shame for many in the village that none of us could rescue him.” She choked as she said this.

Leonard carefully ran his fingers through Barry’s hair.

***

Later that evening, when the sleeping draught had worn off, Leonard was at Barry’s side, the small table in front of the sofa laden with a pitcher of wine, two goblets, and two trays filled with fruits, cold meats, cheese, and bread. Barry’s eyes widened at the sight.

“Is all this for me?” he stared as Leonard placed one of the trays on the sofa so that Barry could get at it more easily without straining his back.

Leonard smiled.

“Every morsel.”

Leonard was both amused and saddened by Barry’s clear enjoyment of the meal. He enjoyed watching Barry reacting to the flavours of each of the foods, while in his head he imagined the sad truth which these reactions told.

Barry didn’t looked starved, exactly, though his bones did perhaps stick out a bit more than in other youths. However, it was clear that he was used to more meager meals. That in itself was not unusual for a servant who performed hard labour, but Leonard was determined that Barry should only have the best from now on. He had to resist enacting the image in his mind of holding Barry’s head in his lap while feeding him grapes, the feel of his fingers brushing his lips with each one.

_Harrison was right to tell me to exercise caution. The boy is too beautiful for his own good._

***

By the end of the week, Harrison had managed to make arrangements for Joseph and his family to return to the town, housed secretly within his own villa. After assuring that he and Edward were best-placed to take over Eobard’s business, all that remained was to wait for Mickael’s caravan to arrive. The compliment of soldiers added to his own guards would be more than enough to bring both Eobard and Theodore to surrender.

Leonard had spent the time getting to know Barry, and telling him stories of his travels, sometimes using pastels on parchment to illustrate Roma and other places he’d been. He savoured the way Barry’s eyes sparkled and thirsted for more; more knowledge, more wonder.

When Joseph and his family arrived, they had a joyful reunion with Barry, forcing Leonard to step aside for a while.

Joseph approached Leonard while his daughter and Edward were speaking with Barry, Barry bouncing their small child on his knee.

“I care not for Caesar or his men.” Joseph spoke frankly.

“I am an artist, not a politician.” Leonard declared calmly.

“You are friends with one of his governors.” Joseph pointed out.

“The man needs a living, as do I.” Len said simply.

“Regardless, Barry was promised great things once,” Joseph continued. “And look where that got him. How can I be sure that he will be any safer with you?”

“It looks to me like you don’t have much of a choice.” Leonard drawled. “However, you would do well to remember that it is in part thanks to me that, not only is Barry no longer Eobard’s property, but that soon Eobard shall have no property to speak of whatsoever.”

“And that just seems a little too convenient to me.” Joseph replied.

“You must understand, Joseph,” Leonard drawled, annoyance clear. “That simply because some of us are able to be rich with Caesar in power, doesn’t mean we have any loyalties to him. However, from the moment I bought him, I promised a loyalty to Barry. He shall never suffer by my hand.”

Joseph studied Leonard for a moment longer, then held out his hand. Leonard took it, though they grasped only briefly before letting go.

The two men turned as more guests arrived; Barry’s childhood friends, having been invited by Harrison (by Leonard’s suggestion), so that he could catch up with them before he was due to leave with Leonard.

It did not escape Leonard’s notice that Caitlin and Ronald were sweet on each other. He took a ring from his little finger, gold with a blue topaz stone; a mere trifle to him, one of many indicating his status. He came to stand next to the tall youth.

“You must be Ronald.” He offered his hand, the ring discreetly palmed within.

“Yes, and you are the one who saved Barry.” He smiled, taking his hand. “We cannot thank you enough.” He frowned slightly when he felt the ring.

“For your sweetheart, boy.” Leonard whispered as he let go of his hand, leaving him the ring.

Leonard looked at it, amazed.

“ _Domine_ , I-”

Leonard held a finger to his lips.

“Later, when you are alone with her.”

Ronald nodded, and pocketed the ring.

Leonard turned his attention to Barry once more, hearing him laugh with the others after Edward said something funny. It was as though the brilliance of the sun was contained in that smile, and Leonard felt something stir in his chest. He wanted to see that smile often, wanted to cause it.

There was a slight commotion coming from outside, and Leonard turned to see that Mickael’s caravan had arrived. The man himself, shaven head, full centurion armour, helmet in hand, walked through the door.

“Len!” the man roared.

“Mick!” Leonard returned the greeting, grinning at his friend.

The two men walked towards each other and embraced, clapping each other’s shoulders.

“Still doodling for the rich?” Mick teased him.

“That is how I make myself rich.” Len replied.

The two stepped back.

“Wait till you see what I’ve found.” Mick grinned at him. “Hartley! Come meet my friend!”

A young man about a head shorter than Len scurried forth, immediately dropping to the floor.

“Nah, none of that, boy! This is a good friend of mine!” Mick extended a hand to help the boy up.

“Len, this is Hartley. I found him in Gallia. The runt of the litter, his parents didn’t want him. So I offered him adventure, and he eagerly accepted.”

“Centurion Mickael has been very kind to me.” Hartley’s comments were earnest, but Len didn’t miss the hint of blush. He and Mickael were similar in their tastes, and he was sure by the boy’s expression that Mick had already plucked that fruit.

“I have recently acquired a new servant, as well. He, too, was in a bad way. Which reminds me, when Harrison returns from town, the three of us shall have much to discuss.”

“Oh?” Mick said, curiosity piqued.

“Let’s just say that my boy’s former master has much to atone for.” Len said with a half-smile.

Mick growled happily.

“Sounds like fun. When do I get to meet this boy?”

Len smirked and turned to where Barry and his friends had stopped their conversation to look at the newcomer.

“Barry, a moment.” Len cocked his head to underline his order.

Barry stood from the couch, returning Iris’ child to her, and nervously approached. His face was still swollen in places from his beating, and he had to walk rather stiffly because of his back.

When he was close enough, Len carefully placed an arm around his shoulders.

“This is Centurion Mickael, an old friend of mine, and his servant, Hartley. Mick, Hartley, this is Barry.”

Mick approached a couple of steps, looking at the swelling on Barry’s face, whose expression looked tense under the scrutiny.

“It’ll be a pleasure to knock the bastard off his high horse, boy.” He gestured towards the swelling.

Barry swallowed, muttering a nervous thank you.

Len smiled, gently rubbing his shoulders, before releasing him.

“You may return to your friends.”

Barry thanked him in turn, before returning to the group gathered in the parlour.

***

At the start of the following week, Harrison’s guards combined with Mick’s soldiers had either killed or caused to flee every one of Eobard’s guards. The remaining servants were offered the chance to remain working under Joseph’s direction for fairer treatment.

Eobard and Theodore were brought before Harrison, forced to kneel before him. He gestured Len forward for the chance to face them. Len approached, Barry at his side, now in a well-tailored Roman tunic.

“Is there anything you’d like to say to them, Barry?” Len asked him.

“No.” Barry swallowed, wanting to keep his voice steady. “The only thing I ask is that they be allowed to live, but forced to labour.”

“Then that is what shall be done.” Harrison declared. “As Caesar’s appointed governor for this region, it is declared that the two of you be sent to outer reaches of the empire, forced to work on road-building. Unless,” he turned to Edward. “As his blood, do you request mercy for your father?”

Edward locked eyes with his father, then looked at Barry.

“No. It’s what he deserves.”

Eobard kept quiet as they hauled them away, Theodore trying to bargain with the guards.

Len placed an arm around Barry’s shoulders, giving him a light squeeze.

“You’ll never see them again.” Len assured him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Romans be kinky, but this one takes his time because his sweet boy needs it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically update date is tomorrow, but since it was ready, I figured, here, enjoy.

Barry was saddened to leave so soon after having been able to spend time with his friends again. Len promised him they would return, but it was still with a heavy heart that they parted company, Barry on a horse borrowed from among the soldiers’, shadowing Len on his, as they left with Mick’s caravan.

After a couple of hours on the road, Barry’s heart began to feel lighter, as he thought of the adventure that lay ahead. He had never left the small town before; now he was making his way to the sea, and onward to Roma.

Len noticed the change in him. He had left him to his thoughts at first, but thought some conversation might be good now that he had had some time to brood.

“What do you think, Barry?”

“I’m not sure what to think. I had nearly lost hope that I would ever be free of him, and now I’m sailing for lands unfamiliar to me.”

Len brought his horse closer to Barry’s, so that he could pat his hand.

“Roma is beautiful, and you shall have all sorts of comforts previously denied you. Once you are fully healed and have adjusted to your new life, I shall bring you to the gymnasium and find you a trainer. You, my boy,” he said, pointing to Barry. “Are going to go places. And if you find that running is not something you wish to pursue, we shall find that which drives your passion. Roma is full of many opportunities. Eobard saw only what work he could squeeze out of you. The truth is, if one is willing to invest in a young person’s future, it is far better for both parties.”

“Did your father invest in you, then?” Barry asked.

Len’s face darkened.

“My father was invested in how quickly he could pickle his innards. My grandfather set aside a living for me, and I used it to study. Once educated, I was able to seek work, and free myself and my sister from my father’s house. I sometimes see him, on street corners, begging for money so that he can get his next drink.”

“He ruined himself.” Barry concluded.

“I thought at one time he had managed to start turning himself around, and invited him into my home to expedite the process. Within two weeks, I discovered that his purpose for making it seem like he had changed was because he owed someone a large sum, and wanted to try to sell my sister for his debt. I put an end to that at once, and he has never been allowed in my home since.”

“How will investing in me help you?” Barry asked, after he felt that a polite moment of silence had passed.

Len chuckled and clapped a hand to Barry’s wrist.

“When I become an old man, no longer able to lift a brush, surely you shall not forget the kindness you were shown?”

Barry smiled.

Len tried to keep the conversation light, though, inwardly, he didn’t feel light at all.

_ Ah, Barry, if only I could tell you all that I want from you. But how can I know it won’t scare you away? _

***

When at last they arrived at the coast, Barry couldn’t seem to stop smelling the salty air.

Len brought Barry through a market and purchased some freshly grilled fish. Having lived further inland, Barry had only tasted salted fish before, and even that had been rare while living with Eobard. The grilled fish had been nicely flavoured with pepper and freshly-squeezed lemon, and Barry ate it with great enthusiasm, making Len chuckle.

“You’ll soon get sick of fish while at sea.” He warned him.

Barry blushed when Len reached out to wipe a drip of grease that had trailed to his chin.

“Come, the others are probably waiting for us. We have one more stop.”

The stop was at an apothecary, where Len handed the shopkeeper a list on parchment. Barry knew nothing of medicine.

“What’s all this for?” he asked.

“These,” Len indicated a jar of herbs. “Are in case of sea sickness. You have never been to sea, and it is a common affliction for those not used to the rocking of the ship. The rest are the ingredients for making fresh salve to continue treating your wounds. I asked the healer in your town for the ingredients she recommended so that I may continue to see to your healing while at sea. Ideally, the trip will take no more than two weeks. Depending on the winds, we could be on the water for a month.”

He paid the apothecarist, placing the ingredients in his bag that he carried over his shoulder, then bid Barry follow him down towards the port.

“ _ Domine _ , as your servant, shouldn’t I be the one to carry your bag?”

“It’s only one bag, and, in any case, you’re still healing. I can tell you’re trying to walk more naturally, but your stiff posture still shows.”

Barry looked embarrassed.

“You don’t disappoint me, Barry.” Len placed a hand on his shoulder. “If anything, I am disappointed I did not arrive sooner to prevent your injuries.”

Barry met his gaze.

“Don’t be. You freed me from him. I had given up hope that I would even get that.”

Len squeezed his shoulder, resisting the very strong urge to embrace the beautiful teen. He sighed heavily.

“We should hurry.”

He sincerely hoped that Barry might be persuaded to see him as more than just his master, because he was in great danger of losing his heart to him.

***

They were barely at sea an hour, when Barry was glad that Len had had the foresight to purchase the herbs, as he soon found himself bent over a bucket, emptying his stomach. Len brought Barry above deck so that he would have fresh air, and mixed a portion of the herbs into a skin pouch of fresh water, which he carefully fed to Barry in mouthfuls until half the pouch was empty. The herbs worked within ten minutes, and Len told Barry he would have to drink some more in an hour, or if he felt sick again.

That night, Barry had made sure to prepare himself for bed while Len was not in the cabin, putting on a thin tunic he used for sleeping. He hadn’t known that Len had already seen his back when they were at the villa. He was quite ashamed of his scars, especially the lightning ones. Len kept telling him how he was special, but the scars Eobard had left him told him another story: that he was ugly, weak, and worthless.

He waited until Len returned to the cabin before putting out his straw mat, so that Len would be able to reach his cot. When Len went to sit on his cot, Barry laid down his straw mat, about to lie down.

“One moment, Barry.” Len called to him. “I must apply the salve for your back.”

Barry looked startled.

“Oh, I could do that myself,  _ domine _ .”

“It’s no trouble, Barry. Come,” he patted the space next to him on the cot. “Sit. It shall take but a moment to mix the herbs.” He picked up his bag from where it sat on the floor, selecting the herbs he had bought that day, and began measuring out portions into a stone bowl. Barry watched as he began to grind them, eventually adding a small amount of water, then resuming mixing, until it had formed into a salve.

“Barry.” He patted the cot again.

“Please,  _ domine _ , I can reach, really.”

Len studied him for a moment.

“Do you not trust me, Barry?”

“I do,  _ domine _ . It’s just-”

“Then, come sit down. I’m tired from the road, and my patience is starting to wear a bit thin.”

Barry began to feel the familiar fear that came with anticipating punishment, and came to sit on the cot, facing away from Len.

“Lift your tunic.” Len instructed him.

“ _ Domine _ , please, may I put out the lamp, first?”

Len was about to say something about Barry being ridiculous, but something about his tone stopped him.

“Barry, what Theodore was going to do to you: had it been done another time?”

“No,  _ domine _ .”

“Then, can you tell me why you are reluctant to disrobe in front of me? I will not harm you.”

“Please,  _ domine _ .” Barry sounded on the verge of tears.

Len sighed.

“Very well, Barry.” He stood and blew out the lamp, plunging them into pitch blackness, before sitting back onto the cot.

He heard Barry shift, and when he reached out, he felt Barry’s bare back in front of him, tense beneath his touch.

Len still held the bowl in which he had prepared the salve, and dipped into it now, smearing some on the fingers of his right hand. He brought one leg up onto the bed, bent and on its side, then carefully placed the bowl inside the crook of his knee. Using his left hand, Len felt along Barry’s back, establishing the area where he knew the salve needed to go. Keeping his left hand on Barry’s side, he reached out with his right hand, and began applying the salve.

Barry began to relax as he felt the tingling warmth of the medicine do its work on his back. Len was being gentle in his ministrations, and Barry felt shame at his earlier display. His new master had shown him nothing but kindness, but still he felt the need to hide his scars from him. Perhaps it was the way that Len kept talking about Barry’s potential, while Barry felt as though his scars meant the exact opposite: that he was damaged.

When Len told Barry he was done, Barry carefully put his tunic back on, then slid off the cot to the floor. Before Len had a chance to move, Barry reached out a hand, easily finding Len’s knee, and knelt before him.

“ _ Gratias tibi _ _ , domine _ .”

Barry shuddered happily when Len’s fingers were in his hair, then felt him shift forward and kiss his head.

“Sleep well,  _ cupito _ .”

Barry wasn’t sure what that word meant, but it sounded nice.

***

By the second day at sea, Barry conceded that Len was right: he was sick of fish. Apart from the first day of adjustment, however, he had managed to stay abreast of the sea sickness; that curse fell to poor Hartley.

Mick hadn’t had the foresight to buy any herbs, and didn’t think to ask Len for any. It was Barry who, while exploring the ship, found Hartley huddled between two crates on the lower deck, emptying his insides into a bucket, trembling and pale.

“Hartley, are you alright?” Barry asked him.

Hartley said nothing, but shook his head wearily.

“Has this been going on long?”

Hartley nodded pitifully.

“Since yesterday?

Hartley whimpered as he nodded again. Barry found himself quite fearful for the other teen’s well-being.

“My master bought some herbs for sea-sickness. I could ask if he would be willing to give you some?”

Hartley nodded, whimpering, before ducking his head as he began to dry-heave.

“I’ll be back, Hartley.”

Barry ran to the room he shared with Len, before he remembered the Len and Mick were meeting with the captain. He was unsure of when they would return.

Barry thought things through carefully. Len had already said that he didn’t think a great deed should lead to punishment. This may not be a great deed, but it was a good deed. And surely Mick would be willing to repay Len for the herbs when he knew they had been used to help his servant?

Barry searched through Len’s bag for the jar of herbs, then found the skin pouch Len had used for him. He remembered roughly the herb-water ratio which Len had used to help him that first day, and measured out what he thought would be the right amount, first filling it with fresh water from the barrel they had in their cabin, then adding the herbs to the pouch, corking it before shaking it vigorously.

Barry returned to Hartley, then handed him the pouch.

“Drink this, slowly.” Barry cautioned.

As Hartley set to sipping the medicine, Barry carefully moved the bucket, not wanting the odour to linger, and slowly guided Hartley out of his hiding-space.

“If we get above deck, the clear air will help you.”

Hartley nodded, too weakened to protest anything. Barry took him by the hand and led him above deck.

The sunlight dazzled them slightly, as Barry brought Hartley to edge, trying to do what Len had done for him.

“Hold on to the rail,” Barry took the pouch from him for the moment. “And just look out at the water.”

Hartley still looked quite pale, but he did as Barry told him.

“Now, breathe deeply through your nose.”

Hartley did so.

After a time, Hartley seemed to be calmer.

“ _ Gratias tibi _ .” He said at last.

“ _ Salutatio _ .” Barry said, smiling. He looked at the pouch, then handed it to Hartley. “You should drink some more in an hour or if you feel sick again. My  _ domine  _ will be wanting the pouch back, but, you can use it for now.”

Hartley took the pouch, thanking him again.

Two of the soldiers walked by at that point, calling out to the boys.

“Hey,  _ pusio _ ! Do your masters like to watch the two of you together?”

Barry frowned, then turned to Hartley

“What does  _ pusio  _ mean?”

Hartley shook his head and shrugged.

The two men stood snickering.

“Let’s just go.” Barry suggested, and they left the snickering soldiers to move closer to the captain’s cabin.

They waited while sitting on some barrels, hoping their masters would soon emerge.

“Had your family sold you?” Hartley asked.

Barry shook his head.

“They died when I was a child. My former master offered me a home and paid for my treatments after I had been injured during the same incident that caused their death, but all he did was use me for work and beat me if I didn’t do things as he liked them.”

“ _ Me paenitet _ .” Hartley said.

“My family didn’t want another mouth to feed.” Hartley continued. “I had to steal scraps or sneak into other places for food. I had tried sneaking into the food stores for the caravan when they were camped near our village and was caught. When I was brought before Mickael, I thought I was going to die. He asked me who my family was, and I told him the situation. He brought me to them and started by talking about wanting payment for the food I’d eaten from their stores. What I didn’t know at the time was that he was testing them, to see what they would say. My father began shouting at me that I had been nothing but trouble since the day I was born and was about to beat me. Mickael stopped his arm mid-swing.” Hartley smiled at the memory.

“He told my father that  _ he _ was the one who was trouble to turn out his own blood, and that if I was a thief it was his fault for pushing me to it. Then he brought me back to the camp and said that I could travel with them, and that he would always look out for me.” Hartley smiled, a sudden blush colouring his cheeks, and dropped his gaze to the deck. “He has been most attentive.”

Barry smiled.

“We are both fortunate in our miseries. We suffered, and now have masters who are willing to give us a chance.”

Hartley returned his gaze to Barry’s and returned his smile.

They both looked up when the door to the captain’s cabin opened and Len and Mick stepped out.

“Hartley!” Mick walked over and ruffled his hair, grinning. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better!”

“Barry gave me some medicine and I was better almost immediately.”

“I hope that was alright?” Barry asked Len as he came to put a hand on Barry’s shoulder.

“Of course.” Len assured him. “You did exactly the right thing.”

Barry felt relief. He’d known, in a way; unfortunately, years of being punished for all manner of slights were still ingrained in him.

“I should have realised you would have predicted the possibility of sea-sickness and prepared for it.” Mick said, feeling slightly ashamed at having not done the same. “You anticipate everything.”

Hartley took Mick’s hand and squeezed it, making the Centurion turn his gaze back to him, and subtly caressed his hand with his thumb. Mick gave him a small smile.

“I’m alright,  _ domine _ .”

The two snickering soldiers from earlier walked by Barry’s line of sight, whispering while glancing in their direction, reminding Barry of their earlier interaction.

“ _ Domine _ , what’s  _ pusio _ ?”

Len frowned.

“Who told you this word?”

“Those two.” Hartley nudged his head in the direction of the two soldiers.

Mick growled as he eyed them.

“We could tell it’s not very nice,” Hartley clarified.

“No, it’s not.” Len agreed. “Barry, let’s return to our cabin for now. Mick, Hartley.”

Mick and Hartley nodded at them as they left.

***

Len closed the door once they were back in their cabin.

“Sit down, Barry.” He indicated the cot, while he sat on the tiny chair, facing him.

“There are some servants, Barry, who serve their masters in a capacity which is very…  _ intimate _ . In most cases, the masters simply take this service. Some masters care very deeply for the servants who do this and reciprocate. However, there are people who look down on these servants, seeing them as being less than their worth, simply for providing this service.”

Barry felt himself blush as he realised what Len was saying.

“And so, that word, it’s a bad term for those servants.” Barry concluded.

“A very bad term.”

“But, you and I don’t do that.” Barry said.

“No.” Len sounded a little sad.

Barry’s eyes widened as the puzzle pieces locked into place in his head, then looked at his lap, unable to hold Len’s gaze.

“Do-” Barry had to clear his throat. “Do Mick and Hartley do that?”

“Yes.” Len said simply.

“Do you want to do that?” Barry whispered.

Len placed a hand on Barry’s knee.

“I leave it to you, Barry. But know that if we did, I would make sure that you would enjoy it. It would mean nothing to me if you did not find pleasure as well.”

Barry forced himself to unclench his jaw.

“I need some air.”

Len backed away, chair and all, leaving Barry a clear path to the door.

“Take your time.” Len said. Barry could have sworn he sounded mournful, but couldn’t bear to look at him just now, as he left the cabin.

***

Mick and Hartley were still on the deck, sitting among the barrels, Mick showing Hartley how to tie a complex-looking knot.

“Barry!” Mick greeted him. “Maybe you’d like to give this a try?” he held out his completed rope.

“I did it!” Hartley declared happily, handing his to Mick.

Mick examined it very carefully.

“You did good, boy.” Mick ruffled his hair.

“Um, would it be alright if I talked with Hartley for a moment?” Barry asked, his voice shaking.

Mick narrowed his eyes.

“Something wrong?”

Barry closed his eyes and swallowed the lump threatening to choke him, then reopened his eyes.

“No, it’s just… please?”

Mick thought for a moment, then stood up.

“I’ll circle the deck.” And he proceeded to do just that.

“What’s wrong?” Hartley asked.

Barry sat down on the barrel previously occupied by Mick.

“Did Mick explain that word we’d heard earlier?”

Hartley nodded.

“It’s just that, Len and I… we aren’t doing that.” Barry said.

“Alright.” Hartley said slowly.

“But, I found out, Len  _ wants _ to do that.”

“But you don’t?” Hartley asked.

Barry hesitated.

“I don’t know. There was someone in my town, he worked with my old master… he did things to boys, the sons of the other slaves who worked for Eobard… I could hear them screaming, sometimes.” Barry clenched his eyes shut as the memory surfaced.

Hartley waited as Barry took a few calming breaths.

“But, Len said he wanted me to like it. That he wouldn’t do it if I didn’t want it.”

“And you’re asking me what I think you should do?” Hartley asked.

Barry shook his head.

“I know that you and Mick… do this. I wanted to ask what you could tell me about it.”

Hartley blushed, keeping his gaze to the deck.

“Well,” he began. “Sometimes he uses his mouth. On… on me. Sometimes he asks me to do the same for him.” Hartley smiled and brought finger to his lip, softly tracing it. “His kisses… sometimes make me dizzy.”

Barry swallowed.

“Sometimes,” Hartley continued. “He uses oil to… to open me.”

Barry felt his breath catch.

“And, does it hurt?”

Hartley shook his head.

“I sometimes feel sore afterward, but… while he’s doing it…” Hartley was bright red and looked like he might almost giggle. “It feels like we’re closer than two people can be, and,” he finally met Barry’s eyes again. “Barry, it feels  _ so _ good.”

Barry swallowed again as he realised his loincloth was suddenly feeling tight.

“ _ Gratias tibi _ , Hartley.” Barry left very suddenly.

Hartley smiled as he watched Barry leave. Mick returned to Hartley.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

Hartley nodded, still smiling.

“I think everything is going to be fine.” He said. “However, I was almost a whole day feeling rather ill.”

Mick laid a hand on his shoulder.

“ _ Mea culpa _ . I hadn’t thought of getting you any medicine.”

“It’s alright.” Hartley assured him. “However, that makes quite a lot of missed time.” Hartley blushed even as he smiled at Mick, who understood the meaning immediately, and growled as he grinned.

“Yes, time that could have been spent reminding you who you belong to. Wouldn’t want you to go forgetting, would we?”

“No,  _ domine _ .” Hartley sighed happily, as the hand on his shoulder came to cup the back of his neck and gave it a gentle squeeze.

***

Barry knocked softly on the cabin door.

“ _ Domine _ ?” he called gently.

“Come in, Barry.” He heard Len reply from within.

Barry opened the door carefully, spotting Len at the small table, sketching. He came in fully, closed the door behind him, and went to sit on the cot again.

“I spoke with Hartley.”

The hand holding the coal paused.

“He made it sound nice, the arrangement he has with Mick.”

Len held still.

“I’m not sure if it’s something I want,” Barry continued. “Because I’d never given it any thought, before. But, there is one thing...”

Len cautiously turned to look at Barry.

“And what is that, Barry?” Len asked softly.

Barry was unable to keep his gaze as he whispered:

“I would like to know… to try… a kiss?”

Len thought his heart would burst from that simple request.

Barry found himself holding his breath as Len came to sit on the cot next to him.

“Breathe, Barry.” Len urged him, and Barry did so, his breathing shaky.

Len’s right arm came to rest on Barry’s shoulders, his left hand reaching to gently guide Barry to look at him. Len drank in the sight with his eyes: Barry’s face flushed, his lower lip trembling, his wide eyes unsure yet wanting. Len adjusted his right arm so that his hand gently pressed on Barry’s back, while his left cupped his neck and jaw, urging him closer, as Len leaned in to close the distance.

The moment Len’s lips brushed softly against his own, Barry gave a startled intake of breath, but soon began to meld into the feeling, his eyes closing of their own accord. Len pressed their mouths together gently, carefully stroking Barry’s lips with his own. He pulled back after a while, and Barry opened his eyes to find Len looking back at him.

“Good?” Len asked.

“Yes.” Barry replied, a little breathless.

Len smiled softly.

“More?”

As though on instinct, Barry’s reply was to close his eyes and initiate the next kiss, a little less gentle, a small hunger having been awakened. Len reciprocated by gently licking at Barry’s lower lip, pushing inside when Barry’s mouth opened. Feeling it was the right thing to do, Barry reached out to meet Len’s tongue with his own, even as he moved his arms to embrace him.

Barry pulled back, ashamed, when a small moan sounded in his throat, staring wide-eyed at Len.

Len smiled as he let go.

“It’s alright if you want to stop.” Len told him. “But know that even what you have just given me is something I will treasure fondly, Barry.”

Barry didn’t want to stop. His loincloth felt tight again, and he knew that Len wanted more. Len had to know what he was doing; he was older, after all. And he had been nothing but kind to him; he should be able to trust him.

“When you stopped Theodore,” Barry said quietly. “The thing he was going to do; I know he did it to other boys, and that it hurt them.” Barry swallowed. “But, Hartley says that when Mick does it, it feels good?”

“When the way has been properly prepared,” Len explained. “It feels good. There is an oil that is used to make this easier, so that you feel no pain. There is also a place inside that feels very good when touched.”

Barry shivered, Len’s voice like warm honey as he described this. He wanted it, but was afraid.

“Are there other things we could do, for now, that aren’t that?”

“You want more?” Len asked, his gaze hopeful.

Barry looked into his eyes before answering.

“Yes.”

Len let out pleased sigh before closing in again, the kiss more desperate, hungry, as he encased Barry in his arms.

Barry instinctively threw his arms around Len’s neck, pulling him in. Len gradually pushed Barry down so that he lay beneath him, placing one knee on either side of Barry’s hips, before gradually scooting his legs further down, pressing his groin against Barry’s, chuckling when Barry broke the kiss with a gasp from the feeling.

“If you want this, we should undress, now.” He whispered to Barry’s ear. “This part will get messy.”

Barry nodded, and Len pushed himself back, coming to kneel, straddling Barry’s legs. He undid the clasp at his shoulder, then his belt. In one movement, he pulled his tunic up and over his head, letting it fall onto the floor. Len carefully sat back on his heels, giving Barry a moment to look him over.

The teen’s expression was one of adoration, but also tense with nerves.

“Do you like what you see, Barry?” 

“Yes.” He said in a small voice.

“I’m sure you have many good features as well.” Len leaned over to start undoing Barry’s belt, but Barry stopped him, grabbing at his hands, causing Len to frown.

“What’s wrong, Barry?”

Barry couldn’t seem to voice what was troubling him, but Len had a pretty good idea, based on his preference to have the lantern out when Len applied his salve.

“Barry,” Len spoke gently. “I have seen the scars on your back, that first day when the healer was helping you. I realise you probably have more that I haven’t seen. It’s alright.”

Barry searched his eyes for a moment, then let go of his hands, letting his fall to his sides.

“Thank you.” Len leaned in for a brief kiss, before pulling back to undo Barry’s belt, then the clasp. He lifted the bottom of the tunic, Barry lifting his hips to help, until it was bunched at his waist. Len bade Barry to sit up, allowing him to lift it off of him, discarding it next to his own on the floor.

Barry lost his nerve the moment his tunic was off him, shivering as he grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to hide his torso from Len’s view. Len felt a pang to see Barry so troubled. He threw his arms around him, kissing his hair.

“Barry, you don’t need to be scared. I only want for you to be happy with me. If you’d rather stop now, then we will.”

Barry sobbed.

“I don’t mean to displease you,  _ domine _ .” He whispered through his tears, his cheek against Len’s chest.

Len kissed his hair again.

“You could never displease me, Barry. If you want, we’ll just lie down for now. Here.”

He wrapped the thin blanket around Barry’s shoulders, moving out of his space so that Barry could turn and stretch out on his front.

Len lay down on his side next to him, supporting his face in his left hand, using his right to stroke Barry’s face, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“ _ Me paenitet _ .” Barry whimpered.

“This isn’t your fault, Barry.” Len cupped his cheek. “Someone hurt you, and it will take time for you to trust fully, no matter how you may want it. I’m overjoyed that you wanted to try. You did so well, Barry.” He leaned in to kiss him, hoping to convey through their lips how he felt.

Barry gave a small whimper, the emotions he felt so conflicting: the want to trust in all that Len was saying, the fear it would all come crashing down.

***

A week went by. They never disrobed, but Barry had developed a taste for kisses, which Len was only too happy to indulge.

At last, one night, when the time came to put out the lamp, Len didn’t apply the salve right away, instead bringing the palms of both hands on Barry’s shoulders.

“Barry, there is something I would like try, we could take advantage of the dark before I apply the salve. Your choice, of course.”

Barry thought back to that first afternoon, focusing on how good things had felt when Len had pressed against him. Barry was already feeling a bit bolder in the dark, now; already used to Len’s touches on his naked back.

“Yes,  _ domine _ .”

Barry tensed for a moment when Len’s first move was to plant a kiss right in-between his shoulder blades, but forced himself to relax as Len’s hands began to roam, touching every part of his back, then circled to stroke his stomach and chest (Barry felt something almost electric when Len slowed around his nipples), before coming to a full stop on his shoulders. Barry felt a tickling sensation in his stomach, and his loincloth was feeling tight again.

“Lie down, Barry.” Len whispered. “On your front, please.”

Barry felt Len stand up, giving him room to comply. In the next moment, Len was straddling Barry’s thighs, and Barry suspected that he had removed his tunic.

“In some of the more luxurious baths in Roma,” Len spoke gently. “One can pay for the services of a person who performs a  _ suspendisse _ .”

“A what?” Barry asked, unfamiliar with the word.

“The person will rub one’s muscles, applying pressure, and this has a very relaxing effect.  _ Suspendisse _ .”

“ _ Suspendisse _ .” Barry repeated.

Len beamed. Barry’s Latin had been a little broken when they’d first met, but had improved greatly over the time since, thanks to being immersed in the language.

“I am going to attempt to do that for you, now, but I want you to tell me if you feel any pain whatsoever, because I know your back is still healing. The ones who provide this service are trained for many years, and, if one were to be told of your injuries, would no doubt know exactly how to work the muscles so that, not only would it not hurt, but it would probably help to speed your recovery. I have received no such training, and can only do what I can remember from the times I have received this service. So be sure not to hold back, alright, Barry?” he held his hand against Barry’s cheek, feeling him nod.

“Excellent. Fold your arms beneath your head, please.”

Barry did as he was told, and then Len’s hands began their work. He started with Barry’s shoulders, grabbing and kneading with the heels of his palms, pressing into the flesh. Barry let out a contented groan, feeling himself come undone beneath Len’s hands.

Len continued his path downward, grinding carefully with the balls of his fingers and the heels of his palms, making circular motions as he went. Barry jumped a bit when he came to his lower back, and Len paused.

“Alright, Barry?”

“Mm-hmm.” Barry almost sounded sleepy. “It’s more tender, but... it feels good,  _ domine _ .”

Len grinned and continued his work. Barry whimpered now and again, but didn’t seem to be tensing, so Len could only assume that he was doing well with the sensitive tissue.

Barry felt himself drifting, grounded only by the feel of the magic Len was working on his back. He felt a little guilty at first, because it seemed so backwards to have his master do this for him, but it was difficult to feel guilty when it felt so  _ good _ .

Len moved his attentions to his bum, Barry’s breath hitching when he did, feeling his loincloth tightening.

“Barry,” Len spoke a bit huskily. “I would very much like to take pleasure with you, now, if that’s alright. I understand if you would rather that it not be  _ here _ , however.” Len gave his cheeks a squeeze to indicate what he meant. “There are other things we can do.”

Barry thought back to what Hartley had said, about how good it felt to be with Mick. Then he thought of when Len had talked about the oil, had told him of that place inside which felt good when touched. The suspendisse had more or less turned his mind to mush, and now he could only think of how he wanted  _ more _ . More sensation, more of anything that Len wanted to give him.

“Do you have oil?” Barry asked.

Len’s breath caught at the question.

“Yes, I do.”

“I would like to try,  _ domine _ .”

Len felt his heart stutter, then leaned down so that he was covering Barry’s body with his own, careful not to place weight on his lower back, and planted an open-mouthed kiss on his neck, before moving over to where Barry’s face was more accessible, craning his neck so that he could kiss his lips.

“I promise, Barry,” he whispered against his lips. “I will make sure you feel no pain.”

Len moved back, maneuvering Barry so that his knees were bent beneath him, most of his weight forward on his arms, which were bent at the elbow. Len figured this would be the best position for Barry’s back. He then unwrapped Barry’s loincloth, tossing the fabric aside, before doing the same to his own.

He could sense Barry shiver slightly, now fully exposed. He grabbed and squeezed at his cheeks again, feeling him relax at the sensation.

He carefully felt for his bag on the floor, finding the bottle of oil which he knew by touch, as it was shaped like a bulb. He uncorked it, then carefully poured some into his right hand, before bringing his fingers to Barry’s bum, feeling him shudder when he first made contact with his opening.

Barry was berating himself a little in his mind, his fears seeming so silly and far away when faced with the sensation of Len working at his hole, being so careful and precise. He could only moan happily when Len inserted a finger, working it in and out of his passage. He felt his hips moving slightly of their own accord, wanting more.

Len thought his heart would burst from happiness as Barry responded so beautifully to him, eventually adding a second finger, listening as Barry began to produce little whimpers for him. The change from that first afternoon was extraordinary. He knew Barry must have wanted him before, to have tried what he did that first time, as well as all the kisses since. He’d only needed a push, something to take the edge off, which the suspendisse has provided. It hadn’t been foremost on Len’s mind when he’d first initiated it, meaning only to help build more trust for later. The fact that Barry had opened up so rapidly was unexpected, but most welcome. He added a third finger.

Barry seemed to have lost the ability to speak, only able to moan with Len’s fingers in him. He gave a shout, however, when those fingers touched something which nearly had him seeing stars.

Len beamed upon hearing Barry react, knowing he had found it. He worked his fingers a bit longer, then crooked downward to touch it again, delighting in Barry’s shout, before withdrawing his fingers completely. Barry whined, moving his hips back in search of them, but Len stopped him with a touch.

“I will give you more, Barry.” He promised. “But you must be sure to be completely relaxed, now.”

“Yes,  _ domine _ .” He whimpered.

“Len, Barry. When we are like this, call me Len.”

“Yes, Len. Please, give me more.” He sounded desperate.

“Always,  _ cupito _ .”

He poured out some more oil, and rubbed it over his length before re-corking the bottle and setting it aside, then lined himself up with Barry’s passage. He began to slowly push the head inside, using both hands to hold Barry’s cheeks apart once he felt the muscle ring had been breached.

Barry felt a slight burn as Len began to enter him, but couldn’t bring himself to care. The pleasure at being stretched far outstripped any discomfort. He held himself still in anticipation, imagining what it would be like when Len would touch that place with his member. He shuddered pleasurably as more and more of Len pushed inside him, and he felt so full but wanted  _ more _ .

At last, Len was fully inside him, needing to give himself a moment as he felt Barry’s hole twitch around him. He wiped the oil from his hands on the cot, then took hold of Barry’s hips.

“I’m going to start moving, now, Barry.” His voice was thick and heavy. “You’re doing so well.”

Barry whined happily when Len did as he promised and pulled out some before pushing back in. His strokes lengthened over time, until Len was pulling out to the very tip, before pushing deeply back in. He adjusted himself slightly with every stroke, until… 

“Ah! Len!” Barry cried out in ecstasy, gripping the sheet.

He stilled. “Alright, Barry?”

“Yes! More, please!”

Len nearly purred, then continued his thrusting, aiming for that spot.

Len’s thrusts became more rapid and shallow, but he could tell from Barry’s cries that he was hitting that spot often. Len could feel himself reaching the edge, but wanted to be sure that Barry hit it, first. He was about to grab Barry’s member, when suddenly Barry was crying out, his passage clenching. Len only had the time to realise that Barry was coming untouched before he hit the precipice himself, groaning harshly like an animal as he emptied himself inside.

Len had to take care not to collapse on Barry when he was done, not wanting to hurt his back. He carefully pulled out, hearing Barry whimper when he did so, then maneuvered them on the small cot so that Barry was lying on top of him, holding him close.

Len kissed the top of his head before whispering:

“ _ Dulce somnii, cupito. _ ”

All Barry could do to respond was plant a soft kiss where his head lay on Len’s chest, before drifting off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to be clear: Len owns Barry, and by modern definitions, Barry is under age. Even though Len waits for Barry to say yes, this is technically a dubious consent situation, hence the tag. Len would never proceed if Barry were to say no, but although Barry is saying yes and Len is careful to make sure he enjoys it, Len is in a position of power over him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry and Hartley have a moment to talk of their respective situations, with Hartley explaining in more detail how he ended up with Mick. They also arrive in Rome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ancient roman carriages didn't have springs. It was a box with wheels, so every bump and dip on a road is felt by the occupants.  
> Their plumbing was also quite advanced, using aqueducts for flowing water, giving the ability to flush latrines.  
> I probably completely made up the heated water for the tub, thing... I should Google more...

When Barry first started to wake, he was aware of someone lightly stroking his chest. He slowly opened his eyes, sunlight streaming from the tiny window of the cabin. The fingers stilled, but stayed where they were. Barry turned to see Len, propped on one elbow, looking down at him.

“ _ Bonum mane, cupito _ .” He murmured.

Barry felt momentary panic when he realised that Len was seeing his scars, but that panic died almost immediately when Len leaned forward to kiss his sternum. His breathing was still a bit rapid, however.

“Did you think you would lose my affections if I saw you, Barry?” Len stroked his chest and stomach with his full hand.

“Eobard…” Barry sounded sad. “He told me that the marks from the lightning meant that I would never find love. The ones that he caused, he called them marks of my shame, for being a bad servant.”

Len embraced him, speaking gently into his ear.

“The ones that he caused are his shame, Barry, not yours. For you, they are marks of your strength, for having survived his abuse. As for the lightning, I believe it to be the mark of the gods. How else could a child have survived such a thing? You are destined for great things, Barry.”

Barry nuzzled into Len’s neck, trying to get even closer, as though Len’s embrace could somehow keep out the cruelty of his past.

“It’s alright, Barry.” He crooned. “It’s all going to be alright, now.”

***

Later that day, while Mick and Len were talking with the captain, Barry went to see Hartley, who was looking over the back of the ship, admiring the swirl of the water. He turned when he heard Barry’s footfalls, and grinned.

“Someone’s looking well…  _ rested _ .” He teased.

Barry blushed, but couldn’t help grinning back.

“That obvious?”

“There’s a certain  _ bounce _ to your step.” Hartley said, winking.

The two laughed as Barry continued his path and came to lean on the rail next to Hartley.

“When Len was explaining  _ pusio  _ to me the other day, he said that most masters who do this with their servants only do it for themselves. Len said wanted me to feel good, and he made sure of it.”

“Mick does the same for me.” Hartley said, a small smile playing his lips.

“I suppose, given that we serve our masters in this way, that we won’t ever take wives.”

“Did you want one?” Hartley asked.

“I did, once. But then she married someone else and I eventually made peace that I wouldn’t have her. I never thought to go looking for love again, never thought I could. But…” Barry stopped, sighing.

“You think yourself in love with your master?” Hartley asked.

“I… I  _ think _ so. It’s as if, I never wish to be parted from him. I can tell he cares about what happens to me, and that he wants me to feel good while he takes his pleasure. But does he feel the same pull that I do? I can never ask.”

“I wish I could answer you, Barry. Unfortunately, we find ourselves in the same-- forgive me,  _ boat _ .”

Barry looked at Hartley, and it clicked.

“You love Mick.” It wasn’t a question.

“From the day he stopped my father from beating me. What he said afterward, about my predicament being my father’s fault… No one had ever tried to stand up for me before. I was just little clumsy Hartley who would steal the jewels from a lady’s neck if given the chance. Not that I ever did try to steal jewels, I was always much more practical. I only took that which I needed to survive.”

“And then Mick saved you.” Barry smiled.

“You have to understand, Barry, that I never considered having a wife. I had always wanted a strong man to be proud of me, to want me. Even though I hadn’t known the full extent of what two men can do together, I knew I wanted to be with one. As soon as Mick, strong Centurion, standing in his uniform, who had saved me from my father’s blows, asked me to be his servant, I couldn’t say no. The first time he talked to me about pleasure… I wanted it, craved it. He was able to show me all the things I had wanted but couldn’t put words or even images to.”

Barry turned his gaze back to the water.

“The only thing I knew of two men was when those poor boys would scream from what Theodore would do to them. I wonder if that’s what Len meant when he said that most masters simply take their pleasure without regard for the servant.”

Hartley shuddered.

“I hope he’s being worked hard by the slave drivers.” Hartley said, clear disgust in his voice.

“Me, too.” Barry agreed. “Him and Eobard both.”

“Excuse me.”

The two teens turned to see a crewman, dark haired and brown-eyed.

“Your masters would like you to join them in the captain’s cabin.”

Barry and Hartley followed the man to the cabin. He knocked on the door, opening it when a voice called from within.

The captain, a bearded man with dark golden hair, sat on a cushion at one side of a low, square table, Len and Mick on opposite sides from each other.

“Thank you, Raymond.” The captain addressed the dark-haired man, who then went to stand behind him at the table. Barry and Hartley went to kneel beside their masters.

“Boys, forgive me for having not met you before, I am captain Rip Hunter. Now, Leonard and Mickael have expressed their desire that the two of you be included in this, so I must first explain the absolute necessity for discretion regarding this meeting.”

Barry and Hartley both nodded their understanding.

“If anyone outside this room were to know of our plan, it will most surely fail. If it fails, we die. Do you understand?”

The teens nodded again.

“Yesterday, I received a message via pigeon from my contacts within the senate. There has been a steadily brewing storm of unrest for some time, and things have only been getting worse. Your masters and I have long been planning to escape from Roma should there be a coup. When we arrive, I will be able to take leave so that my ship need not sail for awhile, that way it will be in port for us. We shall be in constant contact so that if something should happen, we’ll know to meet on board my ship, and leave Roma, possibly forever. You have already met Harrison; he has arrangements to be able to hide us in Hispania. The only other people included in the escape which you are to know about for now are Leonard’s sister and Harrison’s daughter.

“There will be times when someone you may not have met before will tell you things which seem nonsensical, or at least rather unexpected. These are coded messages to be delivered to your masters. You repeat exactly what you heard, and who you told it to you. With the time we have left on this ship, we shall practise this. Either myself or Raymond or the other’s master will tell you something, and you will have to report back to your master with the message. Sometimes, you will be told to wait a certain amount of time, so that you can practise committing it to memory. Sometimes, you will be told to deliver it to your peer, so that they can deliver it to their master. The important thing, however, is that it is not to be delivered to your master unless you are completely alone. While on this ship, this means in your cabin. While in Roma, this means in your master’s home while there are no guests. Any questions?”

Barry and Hartley asked a few questions for clarification, wanting to be sure they fully understood the rules. The captain didn’t seem to mind, in fact he seemed happy to go over the details.

Once everything was set, he bade them all go. Just as he exited the room, however, Raymond grabbed Barry by his upper arm and whispered:

“Son of Atreus, now verily are the Achaeans minded to make thee the most despised among all mortal men. Wait at least one hour.”

Barry nodded. The game had begun.

In the end, Barry had had to wait almost two hours, because shortly before the first one was up, Len had taken some parchment and his pastels above deck. He started by capturing the swirling water which Barry and Hartley had been admiring, moving along the deck to sketch many more things. One of the rules was to not give away any urgency and to still carry on with day-to-day things. Even though he was Len’s servant, he was a servant nonetheless and thus expected to help out with things on the ship. Barry found that repairing one of the fish nets was a good way to keep an eye on Len while keeping himself busy, though he would smell strongly of fish afterward.

When at last Len descended below deck, Barry carefully made sure that there were no remaining tears in the net before casually making his way below deck. As soon as he knocked on their cabin door, Len opened it himself, and brought Barry to a basin of sea water in the corridor which was changed a few times a day to be used for washing. Len used a strongly-scented soap and took it upon himself to scrub Barry’s hands and arms thoroughly.

“I warned you that you would be sick of fish before long. Well, so am I, including the smell. If ever you are asked to repair the netting, do so, but, please avoid volunteering to it from now on.”

“Yes,  _ domine _ .”

At last, Len brought him back to their cabin. As soon as the door closed behind him, Barry walked into Len’s space and spoke softly:

“Son of Atreus, now are the Achaeans minded to make thee despised among men. It was Raymond who told me to tell you.”

Len nodded.

“Not an exact copy of the message, but very good. When did he tell you this?”

“When we first left the captain’s cabin. He told me to wait at least an hour. How did you know I hadn’t got it exact?”

“It’s from the Iliad. The messages you will be hearing from others in Roma will be easier to copy, as they will be constructed for simplicity. All the same, you did very well for your first message.” Len smiled and kissed Barry’s forehead, causing the teen to smile back.

***

Barry couldn’t help but have fun with the game they were playing, even though he knew it was practise for something much more serious. The first time he was asked to pass something to Hartley, it was difficult to do so for quite a while because he couldn’t seem to find him anywhere. It turned out that Hartley had been tasked with catching rats, and he would go to great lengths to find the beasts in any nook and cranny he thought they might be found. When at last he emerged from a corner on the lower deck, Barry quickly ushered him under the stairs before looking carefully around and telling him the message. As it turned out, Hartley had one to tell him in turn.

***

When at last there was a cry for land, they had been at sea nearly three weeks, and Barry thought himself rather proficient in his task of relaying messages. He was almost excited to see how it would work when there were real things to be relayed to his master. There was a certain undertone of urgency, however, keeping him grounded in what this was for. They were potentially in danger.

“ _ Domine _ , why would we be in danger if things were to go wrong in the senate?” Barry asked him.

They were in the middle of packing, preparing to go ashore in a few hours.

“If things go wrong, the danger will be two-fold. Supporters of Caesar will be trying to find traitors, and rebels will be trying to take down Caesar’s supporters. I am not loyal to Caesar, but I have never actively participated in any motion against him. The same goes for most of our friends who will be leaving when the time comes. We live our lives, and do not wish for trouble. Unfortunately, in situations such as these, it is most often the bystanders who suffer.”

Barry swallowed. Suddenly, Len embraced him from behind, kissing his hair.

“I will not let anything happen to you, Barry.” He murmured.

Barry brought his arms up to hold Len’s, leaning back into the embrace. Len began kissing down the side of his neck.

“We still have a long while before we’ll dock.” He murmured. “Shall we spend some time forgetting about our troubles?”

Barry turned his head, pressing his lips to his master’s.

***

Hartley had one final message to deliver to Barry. When he arrived at his cabin door, however, he heard some sounds coming from within, which told him that Barry was quite occupied at the moment. Looking around to be sure the corridor was deserted, he stepped closer, listening intently. He swallowed, his imagination running with what Barry’s master might be doing to him to elicit such noises. His loincloth tightened. He needed Mick.

Hartley scurried back to his own cabin, stopping a few steps shy so that he could quietly continue, then slowly opened the door. Mick was stretched out naked on the cot; not quite asleep (he was not yet snoring), but near enough that he didn’t notice Hartley come in. His position gave Hartley an idea.

Hartley grabbed the bottle of oil from the bag where it was kept, and quietly undressed himself. He poured some oil into his hand, and bit his lip as he pushed a finger inside himself, kneeling for easier access, trying not to make a sound lest he give away the game too soon. He tried to be patient as he opened himself, wanting to be sure he was properly prepared.

When he had managed to get three fingers worked well inside himself, Hartley removed his fingers and walked over to the cot. He first leaned in to plant a kiss on Mick’s mouth, startling him out of his doze. He looked Hartley up and down, then grinned.

“What’s brought this on?”

Hartley blushed.

“I was meant to deliver a message to Barry, but he sounded rather… busy.”

Mick growled happily.

Before he could do anything else, however, Hartley climbed on top of him, straddling him. He poured some oil into his hand, then reached behind to slick up Mick’s cock, pumping it a few times to reach full hardness. He then carefully brought it to his hole, emitting a high-pitched whine as he slowly lowered himself onto it, causing Mick to hiss with pleasure.

Hartley stilled for a moment when he reached Mick’s base, the older man swearing through a grunt.

The teen leaned forward, capturing his master’s lips in a fervent kiss, relishing in the feel of the rough stubble against his cheeks. Mick returned the kiss, licking along the younger man’s lips.

Bracing himself on Mick’s shoulders, Hartley began moving, rolling his hips, the novelty of the angle delicious in his passage. Mick grabbed onto his hips, squeezing and kneading his buttocks.

“You’re so tight, boy.” Mick growled. “So hot and tight. And you look amazing like this, taking my cock.”

Hartley keened listening to Mick talk.

“Only for you,  _ domine _ .” He whimpered.

Mick sat up, carefully scooting back to lean against the cabin wall, Hartley now sitting in his lap. He began thrusting upward in time with the teen’s rolling hips. Hartley started crying out as each thrust was now rubbing alongside that special place within, causing him to arch his back, even as he gripped Mick’s shoulders.

Mick threw one arm around Hartley’s waist, grabbing his hair with the other hand, hungrily mouthing and biting at his neck and shoulder. He was close, so close, feeling his young lover’s passage starting to clench in time with the thrusts.

Mick let go of Hartley’s hair, reaching between them to take hold of the teen’s cock, pumping quickly. With only a few tugs, Hartley came with a shout, spurting over both their stomachs and Mick’s hand. Mick was right behind him, shooting up within him, coating his insides with his seed.

They sat panting, Mick’s softened member still inside, as he held Hartley to him, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

“You’re something else, Hartley.” Mick muttered before kissing his cheek. Hartley sighed happily as he nuzzled into his embrace.

“ _ Gratias tibi, domine _ .”

***

Barry and Len lay entwined exchanging lazy kisses.

“Len?” Barry asked, almost sleepily, before Len laid another kiss.

“Yes,  _ cupito? _ ” Len replied, just as lazily, kissing him again.

“When you used your mouth,” Kiss. “Does that feel good for you, too?” Another kiss.

Len hummed.

“I happen to enjoy doing it,” A kiss and a nibble. “Though my enjoyment mainly stems from knowing that it gives you pleasure.” Len entwined his fingers with Barry’s.

Barry felt his heart flutter.

“I… I feel something similar.” he said, hesitantly, unable to meet Len’s gaze; he felt his face heat as he struggled with the words to describe it. “When you reach your completion, I feel a sort of… satisfaction, knowing that you sought it through me.” he glanced to look at Len’s eyes again, hazel-green meeting blue.

“Oh, Barry.” Len leaned in for another sweet, slow kiss. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

There was a sudden rapid knocking at the door to their cabin.

“Who’s there?” Len barked.

“Raymond, sir. The captain wished me to inform you that we are nearly able to dock, and that you might wish to have your things brought above deck.”

Len sighed heavily with something of annoyance.

“Please return in twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

Len waited for the footsteps to fade before he shuffled out from Barry’s limbs, coming to sit at the edge of the cot.

Barry looked out the window; the gleaming, white stone buildings of Roma stretched before him up into the hills, beckoning for him to roam her streets and meet her people.

“What do you think, Barry?” Len knelt beside him, holding him gently.

“It’s so vast,  _ domine _ .” Barry whispered with wonder.

“Indeed.” he kissed his cheek. “Come. We must ready ourselves to land. When we arrive home, we’ll have a hot bath and food that doesn’t involve fish.”

Barry let out a small moan of relief at the prospect of eating  _ anything _ except fish.

Len chuckled and kissed the side of his neck, then pat his hip to urge him to move as he slid off the cot and began to dress.

“ _ Domine _ ,” Barry inquired as he tied his tunic. “You said I might do well in the colosseum. Don’t the athletes who train there work for years before they compete?”

“Normally, Barry, yes.” Len agreed as he began gathering their things. “But I’ve seen you in action without training. I can only imagine the things you will accomplish once you have a trainer to guide you.”

Barry blushed.

“I hope I won’t let you down,  _ domine _ .”

Len took his face in his hands and bid him to look at him.

“The only way I might be disappointed in you, Barry, is if you don’t try. Never stop trying. If you try running in the colosseum and it doesn’t work out, at least you tried. Then, you can try something else.” He kissed his forehead, then embraced him. “Come, we should hurry.”

When Barry stepped onto solid ground at last, he felt a little shaky from the sudden lack of rocking, but sighed with relief.

“If only we could fly from one land to another.” Barry mused aloud.

“There is no limit to human ingenuity.” Len told him. “Perhaps, someday, we will. Unfortunately, there is also no limit to human stupidity, and I fear we shall face more of the latter rather than the former in our lives.”

“Len!” Mick walked up to them, Hartley at his side. “Veneralia?”

“As always, there shall be a gathering in my neighborhood.” Len assured him.

“I'll see you, there. Barry, pleasure.” he smiled.

“Until we meet again.” Hartley said to both Len and Barry.

“I look forward to it.” Barry smiled back.

After they walk away, Barry turned to Len.

“What's…” he hesitated, wanting to get it right. “Veneralia?”

“The celebration of Venus. The state-approved one is months away, but…” Len led Barry away from the crowd and spoke in a hushed tone. “Every month, at the full moon, we and other like-minded persons celebrate in a different manner. The state believes in a certain set of sexual practices which are considered pure. Myself and my friends believe that any union, so long as it is welcomed by all involved, is something to be celebrated and enjoyed. I'll explain more fully when we arrive home.”

“Leonard!”

Len turned and saw his sister waiting with Harrison’s daughter outside their carriage-box, smiling at them. His sister was wearing a resplendent blue dress, while Jessica wore green.

Len grinned and urged Barry to follow.

“Lisa! Is that a new clasp, I see?” he indicated the gold ornament on her dress-strap.

“Given to me by a senator, of course.” she rolled her eyes. “Given enough wine, they forget the difference between a priestess of Venus and a mistress of the streets.”

“How unfortunate that you bestow your most sacred of rituals to only one man.” Len mock-pouted, turning to look at the man holding the reins, who blushed beneath his mop of dark hair.

“Who is this delectable morsel you’ve brought, Leonard?” Lisa teased, grinning.

“Barry, meet my sister, Lisa, second-priestess of the Temple of Venus.”

She bowed her head, her wavy locks glittering where the sun hit them. 

“Cisco is aide to our house.” Len gestured to the driver. “He drives the coach, goes to market, and passes messages. He and my sister have an…  _ arrangement _ , which I disliked at first, but he has yet to disappoint me in anything else, and my sister does as she likes, so there was little I could do.”

Cisco blushed deeper and Lisa patted his arm.

“Jessica is Lisa’s apprentice, and Harrison’s daughter.”

Jessica inclined her head, smiling.

“Pleased to meet you.”

Barry bowed in return.

“ _ Domina. _ ” he said, meaning it for both ladies.

“When we will be at home, Barry, there will be no need for titles.” Len said quietly. “I may have bought you, but it is only among others that I will expect you to use such formalities.” 

He looked back up at his sister.

“Lisa, this is Barry, whom I bought in Hispania.”

“For yourself, no doubt.” she smiled in a teasing manner.

“For his own sake, as well.” Len assured her. “But we can save that for home. We are both in want of proper foods.”

“Then you shall be pleased at the feast we have prepared, brother.” Lisa promised. “Come.”

She opened the door to the carriage, then stood back as Len, head of his house, entered, first, following on his heels, then Jessica, then Barry.

Barry decided he didn’t like carriages. It was bumpy as he felt each and every dip in the stoned pathways. They were all seated on cushions, but it did little to ease the discomfort, especially as his master had recently given him attentions, making his behind tender to jostling.

Len seemed to pick up on this, and took his hand, stroking with his thumb, looking apologetic.

“Did my brother use you a little too well?” Lisa teased, looking at the two of them.

Barry blushed and looked away.

“I suppose I should have found a different way to pass the time, forgetting that we’d be riding in this miserable contraption.” Len admitted. “We live on the other side of the city, closer to the fields. A small distance from the city from the city, in fact; it’s tiresome to walk when laden with luggage. We shall arrive soon enough, I promise.” he finished while giving Barry’s hand a squeeze.

***

Len’s house was smaller than Harrison’s or even Eobard’s, but still lovely and Barry couldn’t wait to see inside.

Barry looked over the area, and saw a brick wall only a gradus high bordering the fields and the properties along it.

“What is that,  _ domine _ ?” Barry asked.

“It’s my own invention.” Cisco interjected, looking gleeful. “Everyone living in this area contributed funds to having it built. The farmers use water from a nearby river for their fields, but when the senate was going to expand the sewage system, they were going to use the river as the expulsion point for our waste. What you’re seeing is only the tip of something bigger. It’s one actus deep into the ground, and everyone’s waste in the area is flushed into it. It’s kept contained by tightly-laid bricks, and on an incline so that it goes down and out towards a lake that was already being used as a dumping ground for sewage. That way, we’re still able to enjoy the convenience of latrines, and the farmers keep their river. In any case, when you live too close to a dumping area, when the winds hit the wrong way, the smell can come right back to the residents. We’re spared that, as well, thanks to this.”

Barry felt exhausted just listening to the speed at which Cisco laid all the information on him that he didn’t even have time to feel disgust at the subject, just impressed at the solution.

Lisa beamed at Cisco.

“My brilliant little man.” she eyed him up and down as though she wished they were alone, and Cisco looked back with unbridled adoration.

“Enough talk of sewage.” Len interrupted. “I want to eat, and you're going to put me off my appetite.”

Barry hurried to grab their bags, and the party went inside.

The first thing Len did was have them go wash in a tub big enough for the two of them. A fire lit beneath a tank of water allowed them to have a warm bath, which Barry had never experienced, unless one counted warming water in a basin and washing with a sponge.

Of course, Len didn't waste the opportunity to get his hands all over Barry, and Barry gladly returned the favor.

When they were dry and dressed in fresh clothes, Len led Barry to a central room where a juicy roast boar lay in pieces on a square table.

Around the table were three sloping couches and two sitting-cushions. Jessica was already lying on one couch.

Barry went to sit on one of the cushions, but Len tapped the space next to him on one of the couches.

“We're home, Barry.” he said. “The cushions are just for show.”

Barry smiled and sat with his master, who drew him near and kissed his neck.

Lisa soon entered, followed by Cisco, and they similarly curled together on the remaining couch.

Jessica sighed dramatically.

“I’ll have to find myself a slave boy. I’m feeling left out over here.” She reached forward, took a bunch of grapes, and popped one in her mouth.

“Perhaps you’ll find one this Veneralia?” Cisco said as he held a piece of meat to Lisa’s mouth. She took it in her mouth, but lingered around the tips of his fingers, making a moist kiss of it.

“Perhaps.” she shrugged, non-commitantly.

Barry hesitated over the food, even as the others ate from the fare liberally. Even though he had been away from his previous situation for a month, now, there was something different about being in this place, like it didn’t quite feel real.

“Barry?” Len stroked his cheek with the back of his fingers. “Are you unwell?”

“I don’t know,  _ domine _ .” Barry admitted.

As perceptive as ever, Len chose a plum from the table, then pulled Barry into his arms and kissed his forehead.

“You will never see him again.” Len promised softly as he held the plum in front of Barry mouth. “He cannot hurt you, ever again. All that matters is that you are here with me, now.”

Barry looked into his master’s eyes and saw the stern vow written there, as well as a hint of sorrow. Not breaking the eye contact, Barry leaned his head forward and bit into the plum, chewing slowly before swallowing.

“ _ Gratias tibi, domine _ .” Barry told him.

Len kissed his mouth, softly, while also seeming to suck a little to taste the juices of the plum, then drew back and smiled before offering Barry the rest of the plum.

“I hope the  _ lupae filius _ was dealt with harshly?” Jessica asked, not needing to know details, only that Barry had been hurt by someone and Len had taken him from that person.

“With the help of your father.” Len smiled at her before turning back to watch Barry finish off the plum. “Even now, the bastard must be regretting the day that he ever sought to be cruel to my beloved.”

Len took the pit from Barry’s fingers and kissed him again, a bit messily, as he licked at the juice around his mouth.

Whatever shadows had clouded Barry’s mind were now chased away as he felt himself beaming beneath his master’s attentions and dug properly into the fare laid before them.

“Leonard, do tell us how you came to rescue your boy?” Lisa asked after a time. “Did you charge in like a war hero?” She giggled.

“Not quite.” Len shrugged. “I did pay for him.” Len locked eyes with Barry, cupping his cheek, stroking with his thumb.

“It felt like you were a hero.” Barry said, smiling. “Taking me away on your horse. It was like a beautiful dream. Still feels like one, sometimes.”

Len took Barry's hand and kissed the knuckles.

“And later,” Len continued. “With the combined forces of Mick’s men and Harrison's guards, the bastard and his cohort were captured and exiled, forced to hard labor.”

“You look like a couple of newlyweds.” Jessica teased, grinning. “Thank the Gods my room is on the other side of the house; between the four of you, I would never get any sleep.”

The others laughed, except Barry, who only giggled nervously, still unused to speaking so openly about intimate matters. He enjoyed the openness, however. 

Barry had never been able to express these things with anyone, before. The first time he’d spilled seed, he hadn't known what it was, had thought he'd somehow injured himself by working his prick with his hand, and been too scared to relieve himself for a long time after.

Then, the next time Caitlin's mother had to tend to his injuries, Barry steeled himself during Eobard’s absence to ask her. His cheeks had burned as he admitted he’d been pleasuring himself, but the healer was patient and explained what it was, assuring him that it was merely a sign of his impending manhood.

Barry felt as though he could ask Len anything, that though he might receive some light teasing, Len would always tell him everything.


End file.
